I know you didn’t realize I could hear your whispers. I understand the college experience all too well, and I understand you were trying to impress each other. What you didn’t realize was how deeply your careless words could wound a complete stranger. When you made those comments, I knew you were talking about me.
“Look at her checking out workout gear. I bet she doesn’t even know what a gym is!”
That was over three years and 50 pounds ago, yet I still feel the heat of embarrassment when I recall that moment. I turned to face you, and I could see the surprise in your eyes as you realized I was twenty years older than you assumed from behind. I’m sure you thought I was just another mom shopping for her daughter.
What you didn’t know is that I was shopping for myself. I had taken a bold step back to college in my late 30s to finish my degree. You had no idea that I spent 20 minutes in my car every day, gathering the courage to step into the classroom filled with you and your peers. My marriage was falling apart, and I felt powerless to stop it. My 3-year-old son was having potty training struggles, forcing me to rush to school to change his clothes because the Catholic school he attended couldn’t help. You also didn’t know that I was feeling so lost and isolated that I turned to stress-eating constantly. And you certainly didn’t know that I was eyeing those sweatpants because my jeans had become so tight they were causing a rash around my waist, and I desperately needed some comfort. I had spent my last $20 until payday to find that relief.
Your judgment pushed my already fragile self-esteem further into the ground. You encouraged me to withdraw even more from my life than I had already done. You shattered the little strength I was clinging to during one of the most challenging periods of my (much longer than yours) life.
Despite the cruel words you tossed around carelessly, I showed up at that school every single day for four semesters until I graduated. I survived my marriage ending and even managed to get my son potty trained before winter break. At 37, I made the Dean’s List and graduated with my bachelor’s degree at 38. Then, I lost 50 pounds, and those sweatpants I bought that day became too loose to wear.
I still slip them on around the house while cleaning, and on chilly nights, I wear them to bed. Now, I have to tie the waistband shut to keep them on, but I cherish them because they are well-made and have spacious pockets. The school name is emblazoned in pink letters down the side. I know you didn’t think I could hear you whisper, but every time I put them on, I remember that moment. Now, I focus on how far I’ve come since that day and reflect on how much sooner that transformation might have occurred if you had simply bought your books and walked past me.
Before you speak those words that you think will go unheard, consider how you would feel if they were directed at you. When you hear comments not meant for your ears, remember that the person on the receiving end is a whole person with their own thoughts, feelings, and struggles.
Dear college guys in the campus bookstore, I genuinely hope your lives are easier than my last few years, but if you find yourself facing tough times, I hope you encounter individuals who uplift you and remind you that you’re more than your current circumstances. We owe each other that basic humanity.
For those interested in learning more about navigating life’s challenges, check out this insightful post on intracervicalinsemination.org. And if you’re considering at-home options for starting a family, take a look at Make A Mom’s at-home insemination kits as a trusted resource. Lastly, the CDC offers excellent information on pregnancy and home insemination.
In summary, be kind, be thoughtful, and remember that everyone has their own battles.
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